3 Days, 9 Days, 15 Days...

...and Counting.

This is our last weekend of peace, quiet and order in our apartment and I am enjoying it. It's a rainy Sunday morning and Manila from my window is buried in fog and wet. On Wednesday the move begins in earnest. That is the day the movers come in and start packing. A week Tuesday they will load us out of here and we'll be off to the hotel. The following Monday (July 4) I'll be on the plane.

In between sorting, selling (220volt appliances mostly) and gifting, I've spent most of the past week designing the new blog. I don't recall this one being quite so complicated when I built it 4 years ago but I suppose it's because instead of using a basic template I'm changing it up and customizing it a whole lot more which has required learning a bit about coding. This is taking hours and hours of nit-picking, which suits me fine and distracts me beautifully from thoughts of the chaos that is coming my way.

I've decided to create this new blog for the new life, partially because I don't want to disappoint both of my readers, but mostly because I've had a blast writing this one. It's turned out to be a great memory maker of the last 4 years and when I go back and reread parts I'm always smiling. A picture or a cartoon or a joke or a story brings back the sights, sounds, smells and feelings. Even "in memory" posts brings me back to the lives before the passing, and I still smile.

My blog is not open, meaning it will not be found through a search engine, nor does it show up on Blogger lists. I'm not interested in a wide audience. It's still for family and friends (and, as it turns out, their family and friends) and I'll keep the next one that way too. Every now and then I'll get an email from someone I didn't know was reading it and that's always way fun, but for the most part I write for me, which solves the issue of "finding my voice". Finding inspiration comes with the curiosity. I see something or hear something or think of something that sparks the urge to write about it, a fine way to entertain myself.

It also may be a way of deluding myself to believe that I'm compensating for my lazy-making habits of not staying in touch often enough!

4 Weeks and ...

...Counting

Source

I was sitting by the window in the bedroom last night looking out the window. Past sunset, which is early here closer to the equator, by 7:00 the sky was dark and the city lights sparkled. It was clear enough to see 3 planes stacked up at a time, approaching the runway by the airport. The upside down quarter moon was shining through a bit of high cloud haze.Through my binoculars I watched the nightly fireworks way way out by Manila Bay.

I've already talked about the view as way up there on the list of things I appreciate here and the fireworks are part of that. The best night here by far was last New Year's Eve - what a blast - literally. I am SO glad we decided to stay in Manila to see that.

We are now weeks away from leaving. The movers come in 2 1/2 weeks to start packing, in 3 1/2 weeks they load everything on a truck and take it away to put in storage for 2 months. In 4 weeks and 2 days I'll be on a plane heading for Vancouver Island. For good this time.

I've timed my departure to arrive at my favorite spot by the water in Victoria on July 4th, American Independence Day. Why? The Fireworks. The house faces San Juan Island on the American side of the Strait and I intend to be sitting outside that night with my binoculars watching the show, as I did last year. You can see several different Fourth of July fireworks celebrations going off from different parts of the island. Impressive, even from such a distance. Of course arriving after a voyage of 18 hours, I may have to prop my eyelids open.

It's time to leave. That's starting to sink in now. On Friday afternoon I returned to mah jong after an absence of several weeks to find that more people are leaving. This past year has been hard with so many friends departing. People are hosting going away lunches and dinners for us this month and "good byes" are starting. Meanwhile although I'm still straddling the Pacific as it were, a foot on each side (what an image, inner thigh burn) my attention is turning more and more to the other side. My internet prowling is starting to move away from Asia (although there are a couple of sites I will follow for some time, I'm sure) to searching Vancouver Island. I'm sad to leave Asia, very sad, but at the same time my new home is starting to spark some interest. Summer events are starting to appear in my calendar and I'm finding places I'd like to visit including a couple of Northern Gulf Islands not too far from us.

I think there is another great adventure in my future. Soon come.

No Room at the Inn

Yesterday someone came and bought and took away the queen size bed in the guest room. It's so empty now. The first sign of dismantling of our home in Manila.

So for those who have been thinking about coming to visit over these past 4 years but never got to it - and you know who you are - Too Late. See you in QBBC.

We're off tomorrow morning early to fly to Taiwan. I'm looking out my window now, late afternoon of the day before, at typhoon rains. Oh oh. (See The Trip from Hell).

2 Months and ...

... counting.

Source

I'm keeping up with all the news in my soon-to-be new home in small town British Columbia through a newsfeed from the local on-line town news site. Apparently on Friday morning 2 ducklings were rescued after falling into a storm drain and were returned to their mother. I'm not making this up. This is news.

Meanwhile back in Manila, the thought of leaving just gets weirder and weirder. I did make a list of things I had to do to prepare and while I have done a few things on it like call movers to get estimates, I have also found a great way to get around a to do list. Don't do it. I peered at a few things I had on the list, paused, and asked "Do I REALLY need to do this?" "No?" Cross that off. What a sense of accomplishment, getting through the list by not doing it. The best thing that happened was my shredder broke and I don't want to buy another one here (220 volt). So instead of torturing myself by going through files and papers and stuff, I'm not. Good intentions good riddance. I don't seem to be working very hard at this moving stuff, at least it doesn't feel that way. I go to pilates, go to the gym, go to lunch and play mah jong. But I have stopped buying toilet paper in bulk.

However, there are moments of almost sadness when I realize that something I'm doing or some place I'm going to is for the last time. I look with something like envy at some of the newly arrived people at mah jong, knowing that they will have so much to see and will likely change so much.

So here's my next list (Appreciation for the first 6) of 2 more things I appreciate about my life in Asia:

Source

Flowering Trees. It's summer in Manila and that means that all the flowering trees are out in all their glory. I'm soaking it all in as we drive through the gated villages with their big houses and fabulous gardens. Huge flame trees with yes, flaming, red flowers, frangipani with white, pink or coral flowers, some kind of tree with massive yellow flower dripping off the branches and many others I have no names for. The bougainvillea, always amazing, is in bloom this season, with shades of pink through purple, bushes intertwined. Sometimes you see one that is so old and so robust that it has climbed way up another tall tree, so the masses of color are high above. When I'm home I have a bird's eye view of the neighborhood, so I can see all these bursts of color among the greenery. Gorgeous.

Cheat. These bougainvillea are actually in Thailand in the garden of a former king's summer palace.

 Orchids. A few years ago I found a big garden center in Manila, a place where there were many outdoor shops and nurseries in one huge compound. Included were at least a dozen orchid sellers. I can buy blooming pots of orchids for $3-5 apiece. And I do. A dozen or so at a time. My house can be completely filled with orchids, so inexpensively that I was treating them as cut flowers. When they stopped blooming I'd give them to a friend who lived in a house with a garden to put in the back forty until they rebloomed, because after all, orchids can be kind of boring when not in bloom. (I'll be smacked by an orchid grower for that remark. I used to be one).

Anyway, one time when we were off traveling for a few weeks, Rebecca the Maid started putting the pots after blooming out on the balcony and began to take care of them. Good care of them, as they are thriving and reblooming. Every day she is out there watering, fertilizing, probably talking to them and they love it. She also took over care of the kaffir lime plant that I bought to use the leaves in Vietnamese cooking and was mostly ignoring, and since she took over it's now growing little limes on it. Green thumb.

Each of these potted blooming orchids will cost between $30-45 back in Canada. So, massing them all over the house will be one indulgence I will have to bid adieu to. I'm enjoying them while I can.

Next week we are off to Taiwan. This will likely be my last trip. No doubt when we get back we'll be down to counting the weeks.

This is definitely weird.

Appreciation

I have a pretty good idea, especially after my recent trip to British Columbia what I'm looking forward to when we return in a couple of months, but now that I am back at home in Asia thoughts turn to the things I love about my life here. When people ask me how I feel about leaving, I usually say that I'm not dwelling on it. You could say I'm resigned to the inevitable, as it were, and the new adventure ahead, so what's the point of having regrets or feeling bad about it?

However, that being said, a little appreciation helps me stay grounded in these days of an uncertain state of betwixt and between. Half the time I'm thinking about things to do in Manila, the other half I'm thinking of what needs to be done across the Pacific. Whether I will miss all this when I'm gone and living a different life remains to be seen but for sure there will be so many things to remember.

So here's today's list of 6 things I appreciate about my life in the East West and Upside Down:

Mangos. I start every morning with mangos, without fail. 1/2 cup of good yogurt, a cut-up mango - put it all in the blender with a few ice cubes and away you go. I'm sorry, but the Mexican mangos in the supermarkets at "home" just aren't good enough. Philippine mangos may just be the best in the world. I would certainly argue that case.

The View. I love living in our home in the sky. After almost four years of looking at that sunset over Manila Bay, I am still in awe, each and every evening. What a treat this has been.

The Gym. At the bottom of the elevator shaft is the gym - the cardio machines an absolute must in this life where you can't walk or otherwise get any exercise in this hot, horribly polluted city. The convenience of having this makes trying to come up with excuses not to do it nothing but silliness.

Brenda. Brenda is my pilates instructor. I go there twice a week and look forward to it. I'm getting stronger all the time, my posture has changed, I'm taller where once I was shrinking, and all those aches and pains have vanished (well, most have vanished, after all there is all that inevitable mileage to face). Brenda is Canadian from Vancouver and the first Fletcher Pilates instructor in Manila. I am SO impressed with her and have loved this practice for several years now. Very high on my list of things to do is to find someone to continue with, but Brenda will be a hard act to follow.

Brenda

Laos and others. I will miss the ease of visiting southeast Asia. I will miss the ability to go to Laos whenever I want relatively easily. I will miss being immersed in Asia, in all the colors, sights, sounds, tastes and smells (the latter often the scent of sewers and fish sauce). I will miss exploring all the art and design and collecting the textiles and other art pieces that make me happy, sometimes meeting the artists. I will miss the elephants.

Friends. I will miss my friends who come from all over the world and have such interesting tales to tell. In the past year or so, so many have left. They came from all over and they've left to go all over. It's been difficult to say goodbye and soon I will be the one to leave.

Garbage Can

Enough reflection, time to get back to work. This past week I have been tackling the accumulation of papers in my cabinet. Going through the files, sorting, tossing and shredding, I've come to the realization that my hanging file folder system is nothing more that a hanging garbage can. My first clue was when I went through a folder called "bills" and found a huge pile of little bits of paper, including if you can believe it, Starbucks receipts from 2008. This might take awhile.

New Year's Eve in Manila

This year, for the first time, we spent New Year's Eve in Manila. The last three years we have been away at this time, the first year to Victoria, the second to Laos and last year to Viet Nam. This year, our last in Manila, we wanted to be here to see The Show.

We were told that the fireworks displays, all over the city were something worth seeing. Fireworks are popular here. All through the year, every night somewhere in the city, there are fireworks. However, on New Year's Eve it is completely over the top.

Child buying firecrackers Source

Everyone seems to get in on it and there are a lot of really dangerous firecrackers sold on the streets in the weeks leading up to New Year's. There was a lot in the press about firecrackers. Every year people are maimed and sometimes killed from these things (as well as from guns being fired in the air). The group most affected and most likely to be injured are the male 10-20 goofball cohort, but also much younger children are often hurt. The press was all over it in the weeks before, urging people to be careful and printing gory pictures of maimed hands and fingers as warnings. Also there were articles about how to keep your pets safe that night when the noise is so extreme. Asthmatics, forget it, leave town.

The police also paraded their directives to the rank and file on TV and in the newspapers. Police were required to tape their guns closed in order to discourage the practice of shooting one's firearms into the air. The police. This is one of the more retarded things I've heard since I've been here and believe me there have been many. This may take the prize.

I particularly wanted to spend New Year's at our own home, which I felt would be the best front row seats in the city. We are on the 30th floor (more or less, it's kind of hard to tell with all the missing floors to accommodate one superstition or another). Our apartment building is shaped like a butterfly, or so the marketing materials say, and we have an unobstructed 180 degree, view over Manila and way beyond. Way across Manila Bay on a good day to the mountains in Bataan and out to the island of Corregidor. There are huge windows all the way around and the view is spectacular.

Here's an image of the floor plan of our place showing all those windows that I found on the building's website when searching for a photo of the building and views.

Photos taken from our windows:

What a night it turned out to be! In Manila the fireworks don't just go off at midnight as is the custom in some places. Here they started about 7:00 when it got dark and from our windows we could see little pops of sparkling color going off constantly all over the place, way way out in the distance, miles away.

By 11:00 after watching Martin Scorsese's concert documentary of the Rolling Stones, and afterwards listening to old Stones music CD's full blast, the outside show was intensifying so we took our, uh, bottles in hand (I was drinking virginal champagne cocktails, meaning no brandy) and set up the Sunset Viewing Chairs in the bedroom which has the best panoramic view of the city.  It was unbelievable, I can't begin to describe it properly. The noise and lights and colors went on and on at full intensity all over the city for about an hour and a half. The Polo Club as well as the "rich folk" neighborhood below us set off amazing professional displays that were going off right at eye level in front of us. For awhile I took pictures with my little Canon through the window and was amazed later at the results...

It was so exciting, a thrilling sight and will be forever a memorable New Year's Eve memory.

Postcript: The fireworks were more or less over by about 12:30. By 1:20 I started to sneeze and had to go get an antihistamine as the smoke and fumes had apparently seeped through our always closed windows. When dawn broke, the sight of the settled smoke blanketing the entire city was quite something. No energy to go get the camera, I wonder why.

Dreaming of a Turquoise Christmas

 We have returned to Manila from our 5-night stay on the island, just in time for New Year's. This will our be our last in the Philippines and we have decided to stay in the city this year to watch what is said to be quite a spectacle of fireworks from our cocoon on the 30th floor.

It has been 2 years since our last trip to Palawan and again, it was one of the Getting There is Half the Fun trips. One hour plane ride, half an hour through rural Coron, then an hour and a half by banca through the turquoise blue seas. We found quite a difference though when we landed at the Busuanga airport. Since we were there last, they've built a new terminal and lengthened the runway, allowing for much bigger planes to arrive. Last time we flew a 19-seater turbo prop with the co-pilot sitting in my lap. At the airport when checking in they no longer put you on the scales as well as your luggage, a practice which had its own diabolical charm.

Mangenguey Island

The boat ride took us past islands and little beaches, fishing bancas and the occasional dive boat. We went past vast areas of floats, some large black balls, some cylindrical styrofoam. I knew it looked like some kind of a fish farm; I learned later that these are south sea pearl farms supposedly where the best come from. By the time we reached the island, I had an enormous smile on my face, blissed out completely by the color of the water and the smell of the air (fresh!). Within an hour we were in the water with masks and snorkels, me encased, skin almost completely covered, with long pants and shirt. On my last snorkeling trip I was burned so badly it took 2 months for my skin to recover.

The reefs just off the beach are great and I spent as much time in the water as I could. It being Christmas and all I couldn't help remembering the first time I ever saw a world below the turquoise water. I was 25 and spending the holidays with a friend and her pals in the Bahamas. Everything was new to me - the warmth, the breezes, the open living - how beautifully weird it was to me, the northern gal. One night we went caroling on the dive boat stopping at docks along the inland waterway. I thought at that moment that I never wanted to see another Christmas snowflake again. Christmas night was magic -  traditional dinner and tree and all, but after dinner under the moon I sat on the dock and watched jellyfish hovering below. Later, I went diving for the first time and fell madly in love with that most amazing experience of finding that beauty - while being able to breathe! What freedom and also  a humbling feeling of being the intruder, the watcher. The whole experience was joyful and magical. I went home and got certified and returned when I could.

Now many years later, I still love the reef and a turquoise Christmas is still my favorite.

"The colors, man, the colors" are my grinning words now every time I walk (or crawl, depending on the waves) out of the water after hovering over the reef. One afternoon off the beach to the Left of the Dock I found a lone parrot fish among a huge number of other species feeding along the far end of the reef. This guy caught my eye immediately, an audible sigh (which sounds quite strange in the snorkel), oh how gorgeous, and I followed him for 45 minutes or so as he munched away at the coral rock.

Later on the reef to the Right of the Dock (official name) I saw dozens and dozens together - my Left Reef Parrotfish buddy must have been a loner, an exile, lost, a rebel.

Other pals I stalked...

Oriental Sweetlips Source

and spotted a couple of Nemo's in the anemone...

Clownfish in Anemone

The Island of Mangenguey is owned by a couple of escapees from New York. She is originally from Barcelona, he is an American. They have drawn on their design, fashion, restaurant and construction backgrounds to create a tiny resort of only a few buildings and where they live in their own cottage by the beach. I know now what the term "paying guests" means as the place is so small and so intimate that it felt like we were houseguests. During our time there people came and went but there were only between 6 and 10 people, including us, at any one time. Meals were served around a common table in the totally open air main floor. No menus. You got what you got (which was always delicious) when you got it. Our host would mix the drinks and hang out for awhile chatting. Senora was hands-on supervising the staff in the kitchen. Outside the main building where the living and dining area is, the famous Winter Solstice full moon this year lit up the water like an enormous spotlight. The sound of the waves was its background music.

Main house, our suite one of two on the second floor.

Water Boat

The logistics of running a place like this are pretty daunting. Everything comes from Manila. Not only all the materials that were used to build the numerous buildings on the island, but now, ALL food and dry good supplies. One morning I commented on the bread basket, which was filled with almond croissants and pan au chocolate and treats. "Who does the pastry?" It all comes in from Manila, from the same bakery we use. Flown-in croissants.  Water is a particular challenge. They have installed a desalination plant, but it isn't working properly. The technician is due to come January 8th. Maybe. Meanwhile, every day a little banca delivers four big heavy orange barrels of freshwater that the guys have to roll up from the beach, along the path past the house and up the hill to wherever it is they take it. Daily.

One of two cottages on the beach

I'm glad that Richard and Helena have chosen this life for awhile and are putting in the effort so we can come and do absolutely nothing, other than walk into the sea from time to time and sign the VISA slip. Staying there was exactly what I had wanted this Christmas - the luxury of total relaxation. That and a killer turquoise reef.

Violence Close Up

This afternoon our maid Rebecca's nephew was murdered. He was the youngest son of her sister, a young man of 32 with 3 children and a wife working abroad in Singapore. Rebecca's sister, the mother, lives close by and takes care of the children.

The nephew it seems was thinking about running for election to Baranguay Captain in the upcoming local elections in the province. Men with guns broke into his home to dissuade him of the notion. Permanently. Rebecca says that in this province of Abra political violence is terrible. Abra is notorious for its nastiness. In addition to violence against those who want to challenge incumbents at the polls, political organizers are threatened and worse, and whole communities are threatened to keep them from turning up to vote. Rebecca's parents sometimes hid out in the bamboo when things got tense.

I read the local paper every day and each and every day there is a little or bigger story about a murder of a local politician or aspiring politician along with frequent stories of a journalist being shot to death. Usually the killers are on a motorbike and get away easily. Many must know who did it.  Occasionally someone is arrested.

Seeing Rebecca breaking down in agony and tears, I think of all the members of that extended family and what a sad sad night this is for them. And how many other sad nights there are for the living victims of this culture of political violence.

Tourist Tragedy

Pat Roque/AP

I know this has been on the news internationally. (Here's one account).

Last night a hostage taking went very wrong and 8 tourists from Hong Kong were killed when police stormed their tourist bus that had been seized and held for 11 hours by a former (fired) police officer, who was armed and wearing a police uniform.

This is not the first time tourists have been targeted in a major way. In 2001 a group of tourists were kidnapped from a resort island as part of a wider group of kidnappings of Filipinos that year by the group Abu Sayyef. Some of the tourists were kept in the jungle for a year. Some were killed by the kidnappers and some died during the rescue attempt.

Yesterday's hostage taking by one man was shown live on television throughout the day. I didn't see it but the maid, Rebecca, had watched it in the evening when it all went so horribly wrong and when she came to work this morning she wanted to talk about it. She was very upset and at one point while relaying the story she started to cry.

With tearful eyes she finished by saying "I'm sorry ma'am", as though she felt a need to apologize on behalf of all Filipinos to all foreign visitors.

By total coincidence, the Bank's Spousal Association was holding a previously scheduled meeting this morning where representatives of the Tourist Board and quite a few Philippine resorts were promoting themselves at booths lining the room with tables piled with glossy brochures and photo-filled CD's and off-season, local resident deals for the taking. It was well attended.

Hovering

We spent the weekend in a place called Anilao, a 3 hour drive south of Manila. This 25 km stretch of ocean front is home to many dive resorts and apparently is a popular destination for Manila divers no doubt because of the great diving but also because of the ease of access, No need to fly or take a boat to another of the 7107 islands of this country. The other benefit of going somewhere you can drive to (or somebody can drive to) is the cooler full of wine, imported beer and Diet Root Beer!

I don't dive anymore but was thrilled to see the house reef off the beach - which was really why we'd chosen the place to finally put our new snorkeling gear to good use. We haven't been to a Philippine resort in quite some time (see Getting There is Half the Fun) and I liked this one because it was fairly new and there are only 13 suites. Also, this is rainy (off) season and the place was only half full. Many levels of different structures all the way up a hill from the beach - you can recline by the pool, in the lounge, in the treehouse, by the bar, by the mid-level pavilion, on the beach, on the balcony - many and varied are the reclining opportunities. And places to watch the sunset from.

So, several times a day there I was, out on the reef, hovering, trying to take in all there was to see, which was impossible -  corals and fish and any number of other things. I don't know why, but I had some kind of NEED to name everything. I'd look at a particular fish trying to memorize its markings, to later look it up in the Indo-Pacific reef book I'd brought - only to find that somewhere between the water and the beach my mind like a steel... uh, sieve, would forget the details. But who cares in the end. The shapes and colors and variety and movement, oh it was all so wonderful.

I did, however, have a complaint - and it's pretty major. At times when I was out there, face down, I'd feel something brushing up against an arm and, fearful it was a jellyfish, I'd try to move away while turning to face it. It was garbage! Empty pancit (instant noodle) wrappers, candy wrappers, plastic bags, rubber flip flops, who knows what else, all mixed in with cracked open coconut husks. Some days were worse than others and some times of day were worse than others but it was more or less always an issue. I remember when I first went diving many years ago and found a single beer bottle on the sandy bottom so jarring. Well this was almost unbelievable in the volume of stuff, except for the fact that I believe it completely. Of course some of the plastic had sunk to the bottom amidst the coral reef but it was the stuff floating on the surface that was the worst. Sometimes you literally had to brush it aside to move through it.

Last September 19 was International Coastal Clean Up Day and over 500 volunteers took part in the event in Anilao. In a 5 km stretch of the coast, in a 9 hour day, they picked up 1800 kg of trash.

The Philippines is certainly not alone with this problem, not that that makes it any better. Even out in the middle of the Pacific, away from the shoreline,  there are several huge accumulations of trash; one is said to be as big as Texas. Ouch.

Speaking of "ouch", on the last morning we were there, on my second fairly lengthy hovering trip to the reef, I got damaged. I wore a t-shirt so my back is fine, but the backs of my legs are so burnt I've been swallowing Advil, slathering on the aloe vera and perching precariously on the edge of my chair ever since we got home. I've said this before, I'm obviously not getting older and wiser, at the very least just older, but more probably older and stupider!

Getting out of Dodge

 
Last weekend we went to the oceanside resthouse, as they call them here, of some friends of ours. The beach house was a three hour drive south of Manila.

We had been planning some snorkeling trips so this was the perfect excuse for a daring raid on the sports equipment store, which was fun to get all new equipment and see how things had changed. Or not. Our previous equipment did not survive the purge in Ottawa (Getting Ready to Leave) as it was, I'm astonished to admit this, 25 years old and furthermore had not been stored particularly well. All those years of piles of STUFF in the basement - never again!

So there we were, coolers packed, sun screen, insect repellent and brand new snorkeling equipment, notwithstanding the fact that a typhoon was passing to the north of the country and another low pressure system, whatever that is, was causing gale force winds and waves along coastal Luzon, which is where we were headed. Hope springs eternal. Once we got there we gazed at the sea waves rolling in over the offshore reef, every now and then saying, "I think those waves are getting smaller..." with that little uplifted lilt at the end of the phrase, kind of a "don't you think?", ever hopeful , if I say it it will come true kind of question.

Alas, snorkeling wasn't to be, but it was still a great weekend, getting out of the city and spending time by the ocean air. Serious hammock time. At night we had a bonfire by the beach and saw that after dark bright lights appeared offshore, groups of very bright spotlights. These were night fishing boats, about five of them.

It was also a weekend for an economics lesson. Our friends employ a number of people from the local village including the housekeeper, foreman and half a dozen construction laborers, as they have been building on the property for years and years, including currently constructing a new house. (One of the projects was to build 270 steps to take you down to the property from the road above. Took three days for calf muscles to recuperate). Late Sunday morning my friend and I decided to take a walk along the beach to the village.

The end of the road

The village is at the end of the road. Literally. 48 families live there in the woods, and even in this very basic place of houses under the trees and dirt paths, you can see a difference in affluence. Some structures are made of plywood and thatch, some are more solidly build of concrete blocks. There are not a lot of opportunities to make money. Some have found jobs at the local resorts, some in small-scale construction like those working for my friends, some fish, and four families have relatives who are overseas workers in Israel and Canada who send home money. We also saw some men on small horses who had come down from even more remote mountain villages to sell fruit that they carried in woven basket saddlebags.

If you are there during the week and the tide is low, you will see the children walking past along the beach in their school uniforms, heading for an elementary school at the next village. Primary education is supposedly free in the Philippines and yet many Filipino children still don't even attend. Here's why.

The laborers working on the house earn about 220 pesos a day. About $5. One of the men has 6 little children. In the early school years the children can walk to the next village to go to school, assuming they can afford the uniforms. But in the higher grades they have to go to the school in a more distant village and to get there they need to not only walk the distance to the next village but from there they need to take the jeepney to another school. 12 pesos one way. Do the math. 24 pesos a day times x (lots) children.

Only about half of Filipino children continue to complete secondary school.

I would have been very hesitant to walk through this village if I hadn't been with my friend who was known to the people, and as it was I wasn't completely comfortable. It reminded me of some of the hill tribe villages I'd seen in Laos, except in those cases, the residents saw many western visitors passing through, as it was on a tourism circuit. In the middle of this Filipino village there was a thatched roof open air pavilion with a pool table, where most of the men were congregated. Some women were washing clothes in the stream - I don't know what they do in the dry season - and under another small open air roofed area a woman was ironing clothes. I commented that I think ironing is a complete waste of time (although time may be something in abundance there) but my friend told me there is another reason for ironing. The heat kills insects that may be in the clothes hung out to dry in the humid jungle air. That would never have occurred to me.

There is electricity brought through to the end of the road and a village water supply pumped in from mountain streams. A couple of the concrete homes have attached sari-sari stores, a common entrepreneurial venture - "selling little things to each other" as one of our house guests once described it - probably also financed from overseas workers. Some of the construction workers have expressed a desire to move to Manila for work. Our friend has pointed out to them that workers in Manila only earn about 350 pesos a day and after having to pay for a room and transport and so on in the big city, they wouldn't really be better off financially. But perhaps the concrete is always greener on the other side. Millions and millions have left the rural villages for the Big Cough, as is so in so many other poor countries.

Kitchen

The house that the construction laborer with 6 children lives in is one of the poorest looking of the bunch. One room, about 10x10 feet with a tiny cooking shed attached. Lots of little children, very close in age plus new additions to the household, 5 puppies. The bowl of rice needs to be divided, then divided, then divided again, with every additional mouth to feed.

The family of 8 with the new puppies. That is their home in the background.

My friend over the years has let it be known that if any family in the village would like to complete their families, she will provide the funds for vasectomy or tubal ligation, something they would never be able to afford otherwise. Quite a few have taken her up on it.